“Millie.” His tone sharpened just enough to pull her attention back. “Don’t.”
Her eyes snapped to his. “Don’t what?”
“Don’t leave.” He held her gaze, willing her to hear him. “I know that’s what you’re considering. You’re contemplating packing up Biscuit, grabbing your keys, and disappearing before anything else happens. But you can’t run forever.”
Her face went paler. “I might not have any other choice.”
He stepped closer. “You’re already exhausted. You’re looking over your shoulder every second. You’re living in fear. That’s not living, Millie.”
Her jaw trembled, and she looked away again.
“Stay.” Caleb’s voice sounded softer now. “Let us help you. Letmehelp you.”
She didn’t answer right away.
The silence stretched between them, broken only by the faint barking of a dog inside the kennel and the rustle of wind through the trees.
Finally, Millie looked back at him, her eyes bright with unshed tears. “What if Ican’tstay?”
Caleb’s chest ached at the rawness in her voice. “You can. You just have to trust me.”
She stared at him, her expression unreadable as the weight of the decision hung heavy in the air between them.
A few minutes later, Millie stood inside the kennel, her arms wrapped around herself as she watched the controlled chaos unfold.
Caleb had insisted she needed a distraction.
Right now, he lingered beside her, not seeming to want to be too far away.
The sheriff’s deputies still worked the scene outside. They’d probably be here all day.
Inside the kennel, dogs barked in overlapping bursts, some excited, some impatient. Max worked at the far end, hauling a bag of food toward the storage area.
The normalcy of it felt surreal.
Millie’s thoughts still churned, replaying Caleb’s words.You can’t run forever. Let us help you.
Could she trust that? Could she believe that staying was the right choice?
She didn’t know.
Her gaze drifted to the woman working near the middle of the kennels. She was young—early twenties maybe—with dark hair pulled into a messy bun. She wore jeans and a hoodie, both practical and worn in a way that suggested she spent most of her time around animals.
“Who is that?” Millie asked as she nodded at the woman.
Caleb followed her gaze. “Kendra. She helps out part-time with the kennels. Three days a week, usually.”
Millie nodded, watching as Kendra crouched beside one of the runs, coaxing a nervous terrier closer to the gate. Her voice was gentle, her movements unhurried.
She seemed nice.
And pretty, Millie thought, in an effortless, outdoorsy kind of way.
Kendra straightened and turned, catching sight of Max as he set the bag of food down. She said something Millie couldn’t hear, her smile quick and bright.
Max grinned back, his posture easing as he leaned against the counter. He said something in return, and Kendra grinned, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
The exchange was easy. Light. Flirtatious in a way that felt natural, like the two of them had done this dance before.
